Youth, beauty, graceful action seldom fail, But common interest always will prevail. - John Dryden

Of no distemper, of no blast he died,
But fell like autumn fruit that mellowed long — Even wondered at, because he dropped no sooner.
Fate seemed to wind him up for fourscore years,
Yet freshly ran he on ten winters more;
Till like a clock worn out with eating time,
The wheels of weary life at last stood still.

All human things are subject to decay,
And, when fate summons, monarchs must obey.

A Heroick Poem, truly such, is undoubtedly the greatest Work which the Soul of Man is capable to perform.